


hell to earth

by mrsandman (spendon)



Series: mania au [3]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: MANIA AU, Stitches, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 01:05:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13423461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spendon/pseuds/mrsandman
Summary: Spencer is protective.





	hell to earth

**Author's Note:**

> warning for blood and stitches possibly??? not too graphic but i guess kinda graphic injury???

The road has been long and rough, but they’ve gone too far to turn back now and the bridges they’ve burned remain crumbled behind them. There’s a specific kind of heaviness in the air that leaves everyone in a silent, sombre mood. The distant but oh-so near future seems like it could go so many different ways, or none at all. None of them want to talk about what they think will come from their end goal. After all this time, it’s hard to believe that they’ve come this far. That the end is finally in sight. 

Spencer walks with his eyes cast downwards, set just a couple of meters in front of him only so he doesn’t trip. If they had to assign roles to the group, he and Pete would be the guard dogs, although Spencer doesn’t like to equate himself to that  _ thing _ on any level. Instead of focusing on the path they tread on, trailing further and further into the outskirts of the city and drawing closer to the forest, Spencer’s attention is on their surroundings and the sounds that none of them could be picking up on that could potentially alert him to something - something  _ dangerous _ \- before it got to them. 

His hearing isn’t always useful. In fact, it’s occasionally a burden. While he could spend all day arguing about how Pete’s monster is the most awful thing he’s ever had the misfortune to hear (and spend most of his time near, nowadays), last night’s events at the hotel they took a quick stop at prove that yes, in fact, things can get worse with Pete. He pushes the memory out of his head quickly and goes back to concentrating, his brows furrowed and fingers rubbing together anxiously. 

He can’t help but walk close to Brendon, a few spaces behind him so that he’s always in his sight, even if it is just his peripherals. Even after years and years and years by his side and growing up with Brendon, fully knowing that he’s capable of looking after himself, Spencer feels an urge to watch over him and protect him, to keep him safe. It’s not the money that his parents give him that keep him doing it - he truly believes in Brendon’s safety and protection, and he would do anything to make sure that no harm came his way. Anything and more.

Which is why, as the group starts to whisper to each other, Spencer can’t help but shush them. It makes his attention shift and for a moment, he’d thought he’d been catching onto something. Something doesn’t feel right in the air anymore and his whole body tenses up as he lifts his head, eyes widening as he throws a look up to the group, who have stopped moving and are all looking at him expectantly. The sound is all too familiar, but it’s distant, and he  _ knows _ that there’s no way it’s Pete. It’s one of  _ them. _

“We have to go,” he says hurriedly, automatically reaching a hand out to Brendon’s wrist and latching onto it. “Quick. Nearest building, we have to  _ go. _ ”

“Spencer,” Brendon blinks, looking just as startled as everyone else, but they start to move anyways and don’t wait for a proper response. If he says they have to go, then they have to  _ go _ . The dip into the first building that isn’t locked and quickly shut it behind them, where Spencer graciously accepts Andy’s help in shoving a table in front of the door after locking it.

“Okay,” Patrick exhales, running his hands through his hair as he exchanges a confused look with Brendon. “What’s going, Spencer?”

“Drones,” he breathes out. He can’t help but point an accusing look at Pete, who seems awfully unbothered. Spencer curls his lip. “I heard one. It’s not too close, but,” he pauses, and then continues, “it’s coming. I’m not sure if it knows we’re here, just…”

“We’ll stay low,” Andy nods understandingly, scratching his beard. “We were due for a break, anyways. Let’s drink some water, get some food into our systems, and just… relax for a little bit. Just until we’re safe to go out again. Spencer?”

Spencer shakes his head. “It stopped moving.”

“Alright, that’s good for us,” Andy continues, sliding his bag off of his shoulder and crouching on the ground with it, picking out items and delicately placing them on the floor. “We’ll get some candles lit, we’ll have a bite, and we’ll be fine.”

“I just hope you’re right,” Patrick mutters as they all begin to settle down on the ground, glancing at the blockaded door nervously.

 

“I know it looks far on the map,” Brendon says softly, holding a candle up over the map spread out across the floor, the light reflecting off of his glasses, “but we’re really a lot closer than you think. It’s maybe… one more day’s worth of traveling, and we’ll have hit the edge of the city? Then it’s all about going through the forest to get to the ruins, and that’s, uh… that’ll take a bit, too.”

“I don’t understand why we don’t just drive to the edge and walk from there,” Joe huffs out from his spot leaning against the wall, fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt. “Why did we have to walk all this way, again?”

“We’d be way too big a target if we drove,” Brendon pipes up.

Joe sighs. “Aren’t we also a big target traveling as a group of six?”

“It’s easier to hide people than a car, Joe,” Andy chimes in. “Brendon’s right. I know it really sucks, but we’re almost there, yeah?” Joe nods in understanding and casts his gaze over to Spencer, who’s leaning against the wall by the window, his eyes searching outside and beyond. One hand is tucked into his pocket while the other holds the blinds open for him to peer out of. His eyes are, his whole general expression is, distant, away from the rest of the group while his ears are trained in on the ever so faint sound of heavy treading, of curious garling and snarling. He knows the drone has gotten closer, but has it realized that they’re there?

Spencer nearly jumps out of his skin when Brendon touches an arm to his shoulder, his face full of concern. 

“Hey,” Brendon whispers. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Spencer blinks, raising a brow. “I - yeah! Yeah, I just.. Y’know. Drones are… the sounds they make are kinda freaking me out. It’s a little hard to focus when it’s so far away, too.”

“Well, if it’s far away, shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

Spencer pauses, shrugs, and the nods, turning to look back out the window. His stomach drops and his face falls, eyes widening when he sees what’s coming. “Oh - oh,  _ shit _ !” He throws an arm around Brendon and yanks him down to the ground alongside him, covering his mouth before the other man has a even a second to protest. Suddenly all eyes are on the two of them, and Spencer holds a finger over his mouth using his other hand, motioning for them all to be quiet. Everyone stares.

 

He isn’t the only one who can hear it this time. There’s a loud snuffling coming from right outside, and then a low, broken up growl. Patrick looks completely and utterly flabbergasted, and hisses out, “Is that the drone?”

“Yes, it’s the fucking drone!” Spencer growls back, dropping his hand from Brendon’s mouth. “Br- I stopped paying attention, it’s my fault. Now  _ shut up! _ ” Patrick gives him an incredulous look before quieting down. Pete, on the other hand, sits up a little bit, staring over at the window like its jogged a once lost memory back into place, or… or almost as though he’s entered some kind of trance.

Within seconds, Pete is making some kind of chattering noise alongside his monster, like a bird’s chirp if it were being strangled at the same time. There’s rumbles and purrs, clicks and gargles, and then that grating sound that Spencer hates so much. He can’t help but send daggers Pete’s way, the shock blatant on everyone’s faces as the monster starts to talk  _ back _ to Pete.

Dread settles into the air just like that. There’s tension boiling between every single person in the room and Pete, the feeling of  _ Oh my God I can’t believe you just did that _ hanging heavy over everyone’s heads. Spencer can feel the sensations of the drone pacing back and forth outside of the building, making little whines. It sounds lonely. It sounds sad.

Spencer doesn’t care.

He feels Brendon twitch and squirm away from him, sitting upright, just like Pete, and looking straight at the  _ beast _ in the room with them. Spencer’s almost worried that Pete has set something off in Brendon - perhaps he’s made him mad, mad enough to  _ yell _ , but all theory is quickly shut down when the same exact noises start pouring out of Brendon’s mouth. A lump forms in Spencer’s throat and a rock settles low in his stomach, all while his blood practically turns into ice.

Something primal in him clicks, and in an instant, Spencer has yanked Pete off of the ground and slammed him into the wall with a rather satisfying  _ thud _ , his hands clenching the collar of his shirt in a grip so tight that his knuckles turn white. His eyes are a dangerously icy blue and narrowed into thin slits, his mouth formed into a scowl. He can’t help the words that tumble from his lips.

_ “What the fuck are you doing to him?!” _

His words cut through the thickening tension like a knife, and he shoves Pete a little harder, holds onto him a little tighter. Spencer’s fixed him with a killer look, his teeth bared while he hears his monster behind him snarling.

“I’m not doing  _ anything, _ ” Pete hisses right back. He hears everyone starting to stand up.

“Yes - yes, you are, what the hell did you just do to Brendon?”

“I told you, I didn’t do shit!” He snaps, curling his lip and baring his teeth right back at Spencer. Spencer sees the wild in his eyes, the fight, the hatred, and he’s not afraid to send it back to him. There’s heat building up between the two of them, caged fire licking between the bars as two men feed it and toss more and more logs into it, while the fire is growing and eager to escape and burn everything in its path.

The fire is unleashed.

Pete spits in his face.

Spencer socks him.

He doesn’t even realize he’s done it, with how quickly his hand balls into a fist and flies right up to deliver his knuckles right into Pete’s mouth, the force so great it turns Pete’s head. He draws his arm back to do it again, adrenaline seeping through his veins, but as he moves to go again his arm is caught by Andy’s hand. Andy tugs him back  _ hard _ , away from Pete, and they’re snarling at each other. Their monsters are just as perturbed, locked in a hissing fit. Spencer tries to fight against Andy’s grip, to surge forwards and  _ pound _ the little rat’s face in. The satisfaction that flows through Spencer as he sees Pete’s nose drip with blood, and how he starts spitting it out, a terrible, disgusting, awful mix of red and black fluid dripping to the ground.

Spencer knows that Andy’s talking to him, yelling at him, something along the lines of  _ “What the fuck is wrong with you?” _ and  _ “Holy shit, Spencer!” _ and  _ “Why the hell did you do that?” _ , but all he feels is smug. He’s dreamt of punching Pete ever since he found out that he had Brendon wrapped around his finger with rumors of being able to cure his “curse,” dragged him into his “mission” or whatever the hell he wanted to call it. There’s not a single bit of regret in his body.

That is, not until he looks over to Brendon, smirking slightly. Brendon doesn’t match his look, and instead looks… frankly, rather horrified. With  _ Spencer _ . He drops the smile instantly and in moments he’s feeling intense pain rather than greatness. He looks down at his hand and - oh, shit, that’s  _ bad. _ From his second knuckle to all the way down the back of his hand, his skin is torn open and pouring blood, jagged and ripped and- he feels a little dizzy. He stumbles a little in Andy’s grip, and manages to shake him off, staggering back to lean against the wall.

“Spencer,” comes Brendon’s voice, and then, “Holy shit,  _ Spencer _ , your  _ hand. _ ”

“He’s got a first-aid kit in his guitar case,” Joe says quickly, rushing over to where his stuff is spread out and opening it, pulling the first-aid kit out with trembling hands. The stitch kit is worn from constantly opening and closing, and the materials in it are low. It’s obviously that he uses it a lot. He comes back up to Spencer and has him sit down - it’s in his own blood, but he has to sit. He drips lidocaine over his wound and starts to stitch up his hand  _ quickly _ , all while Pete slinks off to the other room alone to nurse at his own busted lip and bruising jaw.

“This - this is gross,” Spencer mutters, voice wavering. He’s not usually so squeamish, but seeing that much blood coming out of his own hand is a little disturbing, and seeing how  _ bad _ the wound is, just from - just from Pete’s  _ teeth _ is starting to freak him out. He can’t look, turning his head to see Patrick. Patrick’s head is turned, his eyes trained on the doorway that Pete passed through just moments before, but he makes no move to follow after him. Instead, Patrick looks back to meet Spencer’s eyes, and he mouths,  _ “Are you okay?” _ Spencer shakes his head, wincing as Joe sinks the needle back into his skin. The lidocaine doesn’t work fast enough, he realizes. 

Brendon’s standing around and watching, switching between chewing on his nails and chewing on his lower lip. His brow is furrowed in concern, but there’s something else in his expression that he can’t exactly pick out to perfection. Is he mad? Spencer reaches out to him with his other arm.

“Brendon,” he whispers. “Brendon, what the hell did he do to you?”


End file.
